


The Seduction of Sgt. Boone

by Trystero



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-26
Updated: 2016-10-26
Packaged: 2018-08-27 03:35:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8385631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trystero/pseuds/Trystero
Summary: Courier Six has six bad ideas and one good idea.





	

Sergeant Craig Boone, six feet two, green eyes, all strength, agility and perception. Voice of honey, heart of gold. What a man. 

He lived in my apartment with me. We weren’t lovers, though. Some people said he was strictly Carlasexual. I waited months for him to make a move, he never did.

So I got sick of waiting, and formed a plan. I was going to seduce that man.

 

**Monday – Lingerie**

On a hot Monday afternoon, walking up the Strip, I suggested a game of pool when we got home. Boone agreed, and when we got home I went to get changed out of my work clothes, heavy leather armour not being exactly seduction material. 

I casually came out of my room in my new naughty-nightwear, and set up a game of pool. This involved having to lean over the pool table quite a bit. I made sure to do it from all the most attractive angles.

Boone stood stoically behind me, holding his pool cue with steady hands, not appearing to even notice my transformation from Joan of Arc into Betty Grable.

We played the whole game with me in my little floaty, leopard-printy negligee, and nothing whatsoever happened. I made sure to take lots of complex shots that involved having to half-lie across the table. No reaction. During his turns I stood with the pool cue nestled between my breasts. Zilch. I stroked it a bit, as though deep in thought and unaware of my actions. Nada.

Eventually Boone said he’s had a long day and wanted to go to bed. 

I realised I was going to need to turn up the heat.

 

**Tuesday – Tipsy**

On Tuesday evening, in the cocktail lounge of the Lucky 38, I contrived to get drunk. I giggled and flirted, but nothing happened, so I kept drinking, and ended up almost comatose, lying sideways on the sofa with my head in his lap. 

He let me lie there, but he didn’t touch me.

I rolled over so I was face-inwards, basically nose-to-crotch.

Boone put a hand on me, and I held my breath, thinking, this is it. 

He put another hand on me, yes! Picked me up, oh yes! Carried me to my bed, hell yes!!! 

Yay, yay, yay, I thought as he laid me gently down in my bed and smoothed my hair out of my face.

Then he tucked me in, and left the room, closing the door quietly behind him. 

Back to the drawing board.

 

**Wednesday – Wet**

On Wednesday, after an unfun hangover in the morning and a less unfun afternoon shooting raiders, I waited for Boone to take his shower, after which he usually shaves. He’s a careful shaver and takes his time.

When he was in the shower I went in and took mine at the same time in the next stall. As soon as he finished and I heard running water at the sink, I came out of my shower, all naked and wet.

“Whoops, I forgot my towel,” I said, catching his eye in the mirror. He didn’t respond, just went back to shaving. 

I went up close to him, and said maybe I could borrow his after he was finished with it. His towel was wrapped around his hips and the only thing he had on. I playfully pulled at the edge of it, and it came off and dropped to the floor.

Boone took an immediate step back and looked wary. It was clear this move was too aggressive on my part, so I quickly apologised and bent to pick it up and give it back to him, but when I straightened up - CRACK! I hit my head on the edge of the sink and went back down again, out cold.

Once again, Boone picked me up, put me to bed, tucked me in and left me alone.

 

**Thursday – Tragedies**

On Thursday, we were up in the cocktail lounge again. Boone made a point of drinking very slowly and encouraging me to do the same. He kept putting way too much Nuka-cola with my rum. I took the hint.

This time I had a better idea than getting drunk. I would woo him with sad stories. I told him all the saddest things that had ever happened to me. Culminating in an epically sad story about a lost dog that even the hardest heart would be softened by.

Boone listened to everything, nodding slowly. He put his arm around me. I snuggled into his side. 

I caressed his hand a bit, and stroked his rough fingers. He let me, but made no moves of his own.

Nothing happened. Eventually Boone said he was going to bed, and left me there.

 

**Friday – Jealousy**

On Friday we went out drinking to the Silver Rush. My plan was to make Boone jealous, so he could see what he was missing. 

There was a young caravan guard there named Rio. Curly black hair, lots of abs and pecs. Perfect. When we left at the end of the evening I brought Rio home with me, made sure to leave my bedroom door cracked open so sound could leak out, and had wild sex with Rio, careful to ensure that how much fun we were having was unmissable. The whole thing, bedposts thudding against the wall, squeaking and graunching springs in the mattress, and plenty of grunting, panting, moaning.

It was just reaching fever pitch when an outside sound came in my door. The ‘ding’ of the elevator. Boone was leaving.

I kept going, but it lacked lustre after that, and I sent Rio away at around 1am. 

I woke up at around 3am. There was no sound from the rest of the apartment. I went into the kitchen to get a glass of water and found Boone there, nursing a drink and a cigarette. The ashtray in front of him was half full.

As I walked in, he stubbed his cigarette out, got up and left the room.

Shit. This whole night was a bad miscalculation. 

 

**Saturday – Maid service**

On Saturday I got up and found the apartment empty. For a moment I panicked, thinking Boone had abandoned his post, but then I saw all his stuff still there. His stuff was pretty messy, in fact.

I decided to try to make things up to him by tidying his belongings up. I washed and dried his sheets, and remade his bed. I washed and dried all of his clothes, sewed up holes and missing buttons, and folded them nicely. He still wasn’t home, so I stripped and cleaned all of his guns, oiled them and put them back together.

He didn’t come home till quite late in the evening, and then he went to bed without a word.

I went to bed too, thinking that this whole plan had been a terrible idea. Far from falling into bed with me, he was on the point of leaving me. 

I mentally slapped myself for hours until I was too exhausted to stay awake.

 

**Sunday – Honesty**

On Sunday, Boone was in the kitchen again, making toast. I went and leaned against the bench, near him, but not obnoxiously near.

I didn’t know what to say.

Boone broke the ice. “Thanks for sorting out my stuff, yesterday,” he said, buttering the toast.  
“Boone, I’m sorry I’ve been acting strangely lately,” I replied.

He stopped buttering and turned to face me. “You been acting fuckin’ weird,” he stated.  
I sighed. “Yeah. I’m so sorry.” 

Being sneaky had gotten me nowhere, so I decided I might as well go for full disclosure. “I was hoping you were going to, y’know, jump me.” I gave a self-deprecating smile.

Boone looked nonplussed. “Jump you?”  
“Yeah, y’know, when I was all y’know, naked, and drunk, and available.”  
Boone’s brow creased ominously. “I don’t take advantage of drunk girls. Or girls who are unconscious from a hit on the head. I don’t like to exploit people, like that.”  
“Right.”  
“You’re into me?”  
“Yeah.”  
“Why’d you bring that guy home then?”  
“I was trying to see if you’d be jealous.”  
Boone’s eyes creased so much now I could hardly see them. His lips moved a little, but no words came out.  
“Why didn’t you just tell me?” he eventually asks.  
“I was waiting for you!”  
“Me to what?”  
“Make the first move.”  
“I can’t do that. It’s not my place. I work for you, I can’t hit on you. It’d be like hitting on Colonel Moore, I’d expect to be fired.”  
“There is that,” I conceded.  
His expression softens. “Why couldn’t you just say something?”  
“Well… I’m saying it now.”

A slow smile spread across Boone’s features, smoothing out all the angry creases and making new, happy ones.

“C’mere,” he said.

I went there.

Easy.


End file.
